


Stiles takes Derek to a crime scene

by Twilight Fang (Asthenos)



Series: The places Stiles takes Derek [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:26:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asthenos/pseuds/Twilight%20Fang
Summary: Stiles is now in college and his relationship with Derek has become much more serious.  In his free time, he takes Derek to crime scenes to hone his skills for his future career. (mild crack and mild violence with a plot)





	

**Author's Note:**

> The adventures of Stiles and Derek have yet to lose traction. Highly inspired by kudos and comments! If you want the adventures to continue, just let me know in the comments below! :)

Heavily influenced by all the bizarre phenomena, violence, and the rising werewolf population in Beacon Hills, Stiles had given up on many of his fantasies of leaving the progressively challenged town – in order to pursue dreams that were less morally questionable – and had chosen to stay behind and attend a college in a nearby neighborhood instead. Part of the reason for his decision had something to do with a certain sexy werewolf named Derek – his fiancé as of a few days ago, and his father – the man whose footsteps he was determined to follow in. Derek hadn’t been too keen on leaving the town that he’d grown up in, and was therefore attached to, so Stiles had felt guilty about dragging the wolf into a big city where he’d no doubt have trouble adapting.

 

So now Stiles was majoring in criminal justice down at Beacon Hills Community College and unofficially – translation: illegally – apprenticing under his father on weekends and at night, whenever he didn’t have a major report due or an exam to take, training to become a full fledged deputy as soon as he graduated. He already had a solid reputation for popping up around crime scenes and appearing in the presence of dead bodies, so that gave him a head start to becoming an accepted non-member of the sheriff’s department.

 

“Stiles, after I’ve shifted, can you please scratch between my shoulders?” Derek asked from the backseat of Stiles’ overused jeep. It was destined for the junkyard, and had been for the past two years, but Stiles just didn’t have the heart, or the funds, to replace it.

 

“Aww, poor wolf. Are you itchy?” Stiles teased, leaning over the headrest so that he could admire Derek’s impressive physique. All toned and lean, with a very nicely built chest, like a god sent down from above, just for him to love and play with.

 

“No, but I will be. My fur is tangled in that area, so whenever I shift I feel itchy.”

 

Stiles reached over to massage the nape of Derek’s neck, moving down to his right shoulder where he squeezed again, and then just swept the palm of his hand down the length of his fiancé’s smooth back and over his extremely appetitizing ass. When Derek made a startled noise, Stiles calmed him by gently groping him, one ass cheek at a time. “Having difficulty shifting, Derek?” Stiles snickered.

 

“I can’t concentrate when you do that.” Derek glared up at Stiles from where he was hunched over the backseat on his hands and knees, completely naked, his sea-green eyes beginning to glow luminescent blue in irritation.

 

“Aren’t you forgetting something, my spouse-to-be?” Stiles asked as his hand wandered back up to Derek’s neck again, dipped down to his jaw, hooked his fingers under it, and pulled his wolf up for a mouth-watering kiss. Derek had to grip the driver’s side seat for balance as he leaned up to deepen the kiss, while Stiles nearly fell face first into the back when his body weight tipped too far forward to wrap his arms around his wolf’s waist.

 

“What have I forgotten this time?” Derek murmured dreamily when the kiss ended, only to be silenced when Stiles’ tongue thrust into his mouth for a second enthusiastic, tongue-twisting kiss. “Mmm…” Sometimes Stiles could be incredibly horny and insatiable, especially around crime scenes, which was frighteningly disturbing but entirely incurable. One of Stiles kinks – and he had many – was to catch Derek by surprise with a very intense kiss, not giving the wolf the chance to catch his breath. This inevitably led to a breathless Derek moaning in Stiles’ arms, which triggered a heated make-out session followed by unbelievably hot sex.

 

Listening to Derek panting by his ear, pressed up against the back of the seat and held in place by the grip he had on his wolf’s back, Stiles whispered affectionately to him. “As much as I’d rather you keep my ring on at all times, there’s no way I can explain a wolf wearing bling to a crime scene.” He kissed Derek on the forehead and let him retreat to the backseat, where he stretched the kinks out of his neck and moodily slipped off his engagement ring.

 

“I don’t like taking it off,” Derek grumbled, placing the diamond-encrusted gold band into Stiles’ outstretched palm.

 

“I know. And that’s why I got you _this_.” Grinning like a perverted maniac, Stiles presented Derek with the royal blue velvet collar that he’d had custom made down at the local pet shop. It was dotted with thorn-like spikes that would deter anyone who might consider grabbing Derek by it, and the attached diamond-studded tag read _I belong to Stiles Stilinski. If found call 555-0552._

 

“I’m not wearing that,” Derek said in a firm tone that left no leeway for negotiation. “There is no fucking way you’re putting that on me.”

 

“But I thought you liked being _my_ wolf,” Stiles protested in his most convincing _you-don’t-love-me?_ tone. He kept his sad amber-brown eyes on his wolf, watching him begin to shift. “I had this made just for you,” Stiles continued to whine, admiring Derek’s sexy body for a second more, before it was replaced with that of an ultra sleek, glossy black wolf. “I even had it engraved. See?” He flipped the tag over to show Derek the engraving that had Stiles’ name, followed by a heart, and under which Derek’s name was scrawled out in loopy letters. “See? Stiles loves Derek.”

 

Glossy wolf Derek made a frustrated whining noise, pawing the worn upholstery of the backseat a few times before giving a short wolfish bark.

 

“I can put it on?” Stiles confirmed in excitement.

 

Derek leapt through the gap between the driver’s seat and front passenger’s seat, hit the dashboard with his untrimmed claws, adding more scratches to it, and bounded into Stiles’ lap.

 

“You’re such a good wolf,” Stiles praised, petting Derek’s soft fur before lifting him up by his front legs. He hugged his wolf tightly, nuzzling his face and rubbing his cheek against silky _soft_ jet black fur, before kissing Derek on his muzzle. “Now hold still and let me know if it’s too tight.”

 

Derek gave a huff of impatience and arched his neck to allow Stiles to fasten the expensive collar around his neck. It was actually quite nice, and it didn’t chafe, so Derek decided that he could put up with it for an hour or two.

 

“You like it, don’t you?” Stiles patted Derek on the head and then took out his wolf’s favorite grooming tool – a wooden wire pin brush. It was perfect for making his wolf extra glossy, and for relieving that itch between the shoulders that Derek kept complaining about. He began to groom Derek, humming cheerfully to himself as his wolf moved in the opposite direction of the brush, trying to really work those wire pins into his furry body. Stiles obliged him by gripping the brush a little firmer and dragging it from the top of Derek’s head, down to the base of his tail. Derek flopped down onto his lap, all four paws hanging loosely off of the driver’s seat in boneless content. And then the wolfish purring began, low and indistinct at first, growing louder when Stiles found that spot that turned Derek’s muscles to jelly.

 

_Ring!_

_Ring!_

_Ring!_

“Crap. I think we’re running a bit late,” Stiles muttered, glancing over at his cell phone on the passenger’s side seat to see that his father was calling him. But the pleasant vibrations rumbling against Stiles’ belly, where Derek had buried his face, were very distracting. “Sexy vibrating wolf,” Stiles praised Derek, petting him some more before sighing in defeat. “Come on. Out you go.” He flung open the car door and lightly tapped his wolf on the behind.

 

Unhappy with the loss of his warm spot on top of Stiles’ thighs, and the loss of those heavenly bristles running through his fur, Derek growled once, before leaping out of the car and onto the hard asphalt of the Beacon Hills High School parking lot. There were already two cruisers on the scene, parked much closer to the building, one of which belonged to his father Sheriff Stilinski.

 

“Back to our old haunt,” Stiles sighed, fondly appreciating the familiar night crime scene of his former high school. “Oh, the memories.”

 

Derek gave Stiles an incredulous look, probably remembering nearly drowning in the school pool after he’d been attacked by the Kanima, being mauled by his uncle Peter in the parking lot, and nearly losing his life to an overly stimulated Boyd and Cora in the basement. Definitely no good memories of Beacon High for him.

 

Stiles strode cockily up to the building, pulled open one of the heavy metal doors for Derek, and followed his wolf inside.

 

All the lights were on, so it didn’t look too spooky, except for the fact that there were no classes in progress, no tardy students in the hallway, and no newly born werewolves vying for supremacy in the locker room. Stiles straightened the white laces on his forest green hoodie and smoothed down his wayward brown hair. He didn’t want to come across as a college student in front of his father’s colleagues but hadn’t been able to find anything more _suitable_ to wear. All the deputies would be in uniform anyway, so it really didn’t matter how he dressed. He would look out of place regardless.

 

“Ohhh, my ears,” Stiles moaned, grimacing at Derek as his lover-in-wolf-form strutted down the hallway with all twenty diamond-sharp claws clacking on the tiled flooring. “Can you maybe retract those until we get to the gymnasium?”

 

Derek looked up at Stiles, grinned a wolfish grin with his fangs showing, and continued to clack away.

 

As soon as they reached the gymnasium, and Derek entered through one of the open doors, one of the deputies shouted in terror. “WOLF!” He cried out, stumbling backwards and falling over the corpse that he’d been examining.

 

Stiles traded a look with his father, which caused the senior Stilinski to quickly try to defuse the situation before someone pulled a gun on Derek.

 

“Deputy, that isn’t a wolf,” Stilinski said calmly, urging the deputy’s hand away from his firearm. “That’s my son’s _wolf-dog_.” Most of the residents of Beacon Hills were ridiculously gullible and easily fooled. That’s probably why the whole town hadn’t been quarantined when the werewolf population had exploded. Everyone was still blaming all the weirdness on cougars and drunken frat boys.

 

Derek snarled at the deputy, rolled his blue eyes, and approached the crime scene with his bushy tail swishing back and forth. This was the reaction that some people continued to have to Derek. Usually the ones who had trouble buying into the _wolf-dog partner_ spiel that Stiles kept trying to sell. He couldn’t have taken Derek to a crime scene in his human form for a variety of reasons, one of which was that humans sniffing dead bodies happened to attract psychiatrists far too easily. Another was that science had no way of explaining the phenomenon of a set of sea-green eyes suddenly turning blue and beginning to glow. And if science couldn’t explain it, it freaked people out.

 

“That’s a pretty looking dog that you’ve got there,” a bold-looking deputy said as he reached over to pet Derek’s tail. Which was one hell of a stupid thing to do.

 

Growling savagely, Derek twisted around, snapped at the deputy, and sunk his fangs into the man’s arm in warning.

 

“Gyaa!” The deputy shouted in fear more than terror because Derek had barely broken the skin.

 

“He isn’t a dog,” Stiles said angrily, coming between Derek and the deputy. “He’s a _wolf-dog_. And that’ll be the last time you cop a feel with him.”

 

“Huh?” The deputy looked at Stiles blankly as he held his wounded arm. When it didn’t look like the sheriff was going to come to his aid, or remove the violent animal from the gymnasium, the deputy took it upon himself to leave of his own accord.

 

While Stiles was lecturing the two remaining deputies on how they were to _never ever_ touch his wolf-dog under any circumstances, Derek got to work on the crime scene. He circled around the body of the dead freshman – a remarkably tall and stringy boy who smelled strongly of garlic – and pulled back with his eyes watering. _No way!_ He was _not_ going to sniff that body. The fumes that corpse was giving off from his still functioning pores was enough to permanently damage Derek’s sense of smell. And, in reaction to that overpowering stench, Derek began to sneeze in a wolfish allergic fit.

 

“Bless you!” Stiles called out when Derek sneezed for the fifth time and began to paw at his nose.

 

 _Thank you,_ Derek blinked back at Stiles.

 

“What do you smell?” Stilinski whispered as he crouched down beside Derek, keeping his one-sided conversation as inconspicuous as possible with two astute deputies hovering nearby.

 

Derek glared up at Stilinski and frantically shook his head. _Why don’t you smell him?_ , he thought to himself. Who couldn’t smell that?

 

“Was he a werewolf?”

 

Derek shook his head.

 

“A banshee?”

 

Again, an abrupt jerk to the left and right indicated a negative.

 

“Was he attacked by a werewolf?”

 

 _No. They smell different._ Feeling like a jack-in-the-box, Derek shook his head again.

 

“But he has puncture wounds on his neck. How do you explain those?”

 

“Sheriff, are you talking to your son’s dog?” Deputy Beckett – a freckled man in his mid-thirties with a wife and daughter, and an obsession with muscle cars – stooped down to stare at Derek. And it wasn’t a subtle, sideways stare either. No, it was a full, head-on, fur-bristling stare that provoked Derek into growling. “You know, my daughter has a dog,” he said conversationally to Stilinski, without lowering the intensity of his staring contest with Derek. “She has the habit of doing _this_ to him.” Before Derek could react, Deputy Beckett had fastened a pink ribbon over his right ear. “There, much better,” he chuckled. “Now he doesn’t look so vicious.”

 

“Uh, I don’t think you should have done that…”

 

Derek snapped and snarled at the deputy, rolling onto his belly and pawing at his head, trying to knock the ribbon off.

 

“What the fuck?!” Stiles rushed over to his wolf, all prepared to defend him, and burst out laughing instead. “That’s so freaking _cute_! No, keep it in!” He tackled Derek, preventing his wolf from removing the pink ribbon, and just kept on laughing. “Aww, poor Derek doesn’t like pink ribbons,” he teased.

 

“ _STILES!_ ” Sheriff Stilinski shouted sharply in irritation. “The crime scene!”

 

“Oh, shit. Sorry, Dad.” Red-faced and having the common sense to show some humiliation, Stiles rolled off of the dead body, tugging his wolf back onto all four tense feet beside him. “Go on, Derek. Go find some clues,” he urged, avoiding making eye contact with his incensed father.

 

Derek approached the corpse again, noting that rigor mortis had just begun to set in, marking the time of death sometime around four or five hours ago. So, he had been murdered sometime around sunset, with the only visible wounds being those puncture marks on the neck. They were surprisingly clean of any blood, as if it had evaporated into thin air. There were signs of a struggle and… _The rigor mortis is reversing!_ Derek quickly retreated, his claws scrabbling for purchase on the shiny gymnasium flooring as he tried to get as far away as possible from the pale dead body.

 

“What is it, Derek?” Stilinski withdrew his handgun and intuitively aimed it at the corpse.

 

“Sheriff! I think I just saw movement!” Deputy Beckett hurriedly backed away with his own gun drawn.

 

“Stiles, get out of here!” Stilinski ordered. “You too, Derek! We can take it from here.”

But, as the corpse of the tall freshman became reanimated and began to lift off of the floor, revealing the necklace of garlic around his neck, Derek just knew that the humans wouldn’t be any match for this newborn vampire.

 

The vampire gave a blood-curdling shriek and flew at Deputy Beckett, throwing him halfway across the gymnasium before his finger could so much as twitch on the trigger of his gun. The second deputy went down even faster, knocked senseless by a swift punch to the temple that spun him around twice before he crashed into a heap by the bleachers.

 

Stilinski fired off a few shots, always missing as the vampire glided from left to right, moving towards him in an invisible blur of constant motion.

 

“DAD!” Stiles shouted in warning, unable to do anything but watch as his father was ploughed into by the vampire and shoved into the bleachers behind him. The vampire twisted the gun out of Stilinski’s grasp, leaned down and opened his mouth wide, preparing to sink his fangs into the sheriff’s throat.

 

Only Derek’s quick reflexes prevented his future father-in-law from becoming a member of the undead. He sprang up at the vampire, locked his jaws around the creature’s throat, and shook him off of Stilinski. Then, growling menacingly, he slashed and clawed at the vampire, succeeding in holding him at bay, but not doing any real mortal damage. Because very few things could kill a vampire, and the only physical method that Derek knew of couldn’t be performed in his current state.

 

Realizing that Derek would not be able to deliver the killing blow while in his wolf form, Stiles raced into the equipment room and frantically raided the lacrosse storage area. He found one of the long sticks, snapped it in half over his knee, and broke off a few more pieces of wood until he had shaped it into a dagger. _Aim for the heart, Stiles,_ he instructed himself shakily. But, which side of the body was the heart on? His left? Or the vampire’s left? _Shit!_ Why hadn’t he paid more attention in biology class?

 

Stiles exited the equipment room just in time to see his beloved wolf get lifted into the air by the vampire and hurled across the gymnasium with inhuman strength, where he struck the backboard of the basketball net, and landed ungracefully into the net itself. And that was where Derek stayed, all four paws and tail caught in the net, too dizzy and battered to attempt to break free.

 

“DEREK!” Stiles cried out in horror when the vampire licked his lips and went after the helpless wolf. _Fuck! My left or his left?_ Which was it? Stiles charged the vampire, hoping that it was too preoccupied with its lust for Derek to notice the sneak attack behind him. As soon as he got close enough, he finished his gambling game, remembering what Derek had told him when they’d been going over the list of possible monsters they might encounter together. When they’d gotten to vampires, Derek had advised him to run the stake straight through, and make sure it went in deep. He had emphasized the words _straight through,_ not distinguishing between the right or the left. Not really trusting Derek’s knowledge of the human body much more than his own, Stiles rammed his homemade stake through the back of the vampire’s body with a scream of rage. Because that was the only way he could get through the icky sound of splintered wood piercing human flesh, and the sight of the blood that sprayed all over his hands, arms, and the new hoodie that he’d bought down at his college’s bookshop. Even though the vampire let loose a roar of outrage, Stiles didn’t let go or move back until he had impaled him in the back and out the front, making sure that he hit the heart one way or another.

 

“Stiles, move aside!” The second Stiles was out of range, Stilinski emptied his whole cartridge of bullets into the twitching vampire, not relaxing until it had collapsed into a bloody heap of broken limbs on the ground.

 

“Derek!” Stiles called out to his whimpering wolf up in the basketball net. “I’m going to get a ladder. Don’t move!” He ran back into the equipment room and came back with the ladder that was used specifically for retrieving the balls that got jammed in the net.

 

“Son, let me do it,” Stilinski offered as he holstered his weapon and approached the basketball net.

 

“No,” Stiles refused stubbornly. “You might drop him.”

 

“Why would I drop my future son-in-law?” Stilinski grit out, obviously offended.

 

“He’s _my_ wolf, so I’m going to be the one to bring him down,” Stiles insisted, leaving no room for argument. He thundered up the ladder as his father held it steady and leaned over the net. When he reached Derek, he gently pet his soft furry head and then set to work untangling him paw by paw. All the while, Derek whimpered and fretted in what felt a heck of a lot like a bondage trap to him. Derek gripped the top of the rim once his front paws were free, holding on until Stiles had gotten his back paws and fluffy tail loose. Then Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s middle, hoisted him up and out of the net, and carried him carefully down the ladder. Once he was safely back on the ground, he began to check his glossy wolf over for injuries, frowning when he discovered that one of Derek’s back paws was sprained. “Poor Derek,” he said mournfully, stroking his wolf’s fur and earning himself a spontaneous lick on the cheek. “You’re welcome,” he said affectionately, kissing his wolf on the nose.

 

“That’s one brave dog you’ve got there,” Deputy Beckett said with admiration as he dragged his bruised self over to Stiles.

 

“Wolf-dog,” Stiles corrected him.

 

“Wolf-dog it is,” Deputy Beckett agreed cheerfully. “Sheriff, don’t we have something we give animals that perform so well in the line of duty?”

 

“We do indeed,” Stilinski said with a wide grin. “I think that Derek deserves the PDSA Gold Medal.”

 

“What’s that?” Stiles asked, regarding Derek with amusement when his ears twitched forward in excitement.

 

“It’s an animal bravery award that is sometimes given to police dogs that risk their lives for humans, often being injured in the process.” Stilinski smiled down at Derek, but resisted the urge to pat him on the head. That would make things awkward between them when Derek transformed back into a human. “I think that we can make an exception this time for a wolf-dog. But for now, I think that you’d better have Derek seen to by the _regular vet_ about that limp of his.” In other words – Deaton.

 

“Will do.” Stiles proudly led his limping, glossy black wolf out of the gymnasium and back to the jeep. “You hear that, Derek? You’re a hero!” Derek tried to hop up into the jeep, but slipped back with his injured paw. So Stiles lifted his wolf up into the vehicle, and helped him onto the backseat. “It’s not broken, is it?” Stiles asked in concern.

 

“No, just badly sprained,” Derek answered as soon as he’d finished shifting. “STILES!”

 

“WHAT?!” Stiles nearly banged his head on the ceiling of the jeep when Derek suddenly shouted at him.

 

“Get this collar off of me! Now!”

 

“Oops. Forgot all about that.” Stiles snickered to himself and quickly got the stretched collar off of Derek before it ended up choking his wolf. “That’s why I had an elastic built in. See, don’t I think of everything?” He started up the car as Derek began to get dressed, then thought of something that had been bothering him. “How was I able to kill that vampire? I thought that the heart is on the left side of the body.”

 

“No, it isn’t. That’s just a myth. The heart is in the center of the body, but tilted slightly to the left. Didn’t you take biology class?”

 

“I did. But I don’t remember studying that. My sexy wolf is sooo smart,” Stiles cooed. “Give me your hand.” When Derek obediently held out his left hand, Stiles slid the engagement ring back onto his finger. “It’s just too bad that you still can’t speak in full shift. It might have been helpful to have a little advance notice on the whole vampire situation.”

 

“And how do you think Deputy Beckett would have reacted to that advance notice?” Derek cursed as he remembered the pink ribbon and tugged it out of his dark hair.

 

“It’s probably better that we never find out.”


End file.
